


Agency of Thieves

by Lunacake



Series: Agency of Thieves [1]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series, Layton's Mystery Journey, Layton's Mystery Journey: Katrielle and the Millionaires' Conspiracy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Gen, Partners in Crime, Spoilers for the Last Case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28940655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunacake/pseuds/Lunacake
Summary: A young boy ran by him, giggling and shouting for his friend to follow him. Ernest felt a little bad. Not bad enough to not commit theft on the grandest gala London had seen in years, but still. A little.
Relationships: Ernest Greeves & Katrielle Layton, Katrielle Layton & Emiliana Perfetti
Series: Agency of Thieves [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122635
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Agency of Thieves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Claws](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claws/gifts).



Ernest suppressed the urge to scratch his neck. It wouldn’t do for the assistant of the esteemed Detective Lady Katrielle Layton to show in public how itchy his tuxedo was (very itchy). It was an expensive one, not purchased by himself, but on loan from Lady Doublée. Black satin. At first he was so scared he would damage the fabric that he had stopped any kind of unnecessary movement. He also loathed every part of skin it touched.

Then Katrielle had elbowed him and told him not to be so obvious. She was wearing a loaned dress herself, yet she moved in it as though she’d possessed it for years. To be fair, she had many like them, safely stored in her closet behind a secret panel. Unfortunately, wearing them instead might have offended the Dragons. Besides, she would have to explain how she was able to acquire them, and Katrielle Layton wasn’t keen on giving up trade secrets. She’d given the silks a mournful look when they’d left.

He straightened from his musings and realized that Katrielle had abandoned him yet again for the buffet table. At some point, he was going to stop trying to drag her away from it. He shook his head, absently straightening his cuffs. Cufflinks of gold. Too gaudy. Black wasn’t really his color either, but you didn’t say no to the Lady Dragon. At least he couldn’t yet. As soon as he became aware of his own scowl, he adjusted his expression. No sense in tipping anyone off. He was half sure Katrielle already suspected him.

A young boy ran by him, giggling and shouting for his friend to follow him. Ernest felt a little bad. Not bad enough to _not_ commit theft on the grandest gala London had seen in years, but still. A little. He glanced around the room from his wallflower position. Rich people everywhere. It made him uncomfortable.

Lady Layton, and by extension Ernest, didn’t steal in plain sight. And they didn’t steal anything obvious. Katrielle was smart enough to make every little vanished thing seem like an accident. How was this going to happen here?

“Still too obvious.”

Ernest jumped, surprised to find Katrielle away from the buffet table and at his side. With a plate bursting with food. She gave him a sideways glance. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” Ernest exclaimed. When a passing couple shot him a look he smiled sheepishly and lowered his voice. “I’m just...” Worried? Concerned? None of that sounded like he trusted her. And he did! He just really didn’t care for this ambience. He settled for, “...Curious.”

She snorted and waved a fork around. “It’ll be a new experience. Don’t worry. Everything will be completely safe.” She tapped the fork twice against the plate and then speared a piece of meat. “Rich people don’t care that much about their money. Not the exact number. They care about their important things of course, statements to their wealth like a precious antique vase or portraits. Not about small things like watches or necklaces. Not if they have a hundred similar ones.”

How she managed to hum, eat and speak at the same time was beyond him. Of course this was Katrielle Layton. One should expect such things of her.

“So a watch?” This was the more pressing matter. She hadn’t told him her plan. Not weeks before like usually, not yesterday like sometimes, and not even today. Yet. A part of him was scared she was excluding him.

“Not exactly.” She shrugged. “Haven’t decided, yet.”

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me.”

Ernest blinked. “But this is a very...” Important event? High class society event? Probably has a lot of security event? How could even she do anything without a plan?

She waved away his concerns with her hand. “I’m working on it. Rich people,” she started again, “rich people care about something else. Gossip.”

“Like… what dress Lady Lavinia would wear next?”

“No, because that is a valid concern. I’m thinking purple would look good.”

“Purple would suit you too, Miss Layton.”

“Everything suits me.”

True. She seemed pleased nonetheless.

“No, what I mean is, they don’t want their little trinket back,” she clarified. “They want a story to tell their friends. Maybe a scapegoat. And what they like even _more_ is a story about someone else’s trinket.”

Ernest glanced around the room again. He looked for marks, people with loose jewellery and absent-minded gazes. “We’ll take something and give it to someone else? Create a mystery?”

She grinned. “As a start.” Her plate was empty. She seemed to debate going back to the buffet.

He had a question before she vanished again. “What will we do when they ask you to solve that mystery?” Because they would. They always did.

“We give them something that’s so strange it has to be the truth.”

~*~

Katrielle snatched a cookie from the table as she walked by. Both for the cookie itself and as a slight warm up. Mostly for the cookie though. She’d steal the food if that weren’t actually completely legal, allowed and encouraged. Her blood was thrumming in her veins. Anticipation. This was how she always felt, moments before a plan formed or before she was about to solve something great. When all the little pieces clicked into place.

She remembered bouncing on her feet, shortly before spewing out her explanation of a street theft. It had been fifteen years ago, her father had been working on it beside her. And she’d told him what she thought, every little detail she felt her solution explained. She hadn’t been completely right, but close enough on the main points that everyone else, and most importantly her father, had been impressed. She’d cherished that. It had been one of the first times she’d really _known_ how it worked. How a real _crime_ worked.

And she’d only gotten better. Even after he’d left. The cookie in her hand crumbled. She had made a fist without noticing again. She brushed off the crumbs and blew out a breath. Head in the game.

She knew Ernest was nervous. She also knew he was trying very hard not to scowl at every guest. She almost felt a bit bad for him. But then again, his discomfort with the flaunting of wealth and his glare at any Dragon in his line of sight, the glare that he was trying so hard to hide, was exactly what she wanted to study. He’d be fine. He was better under pressure than he let on.

He’d have to be patient for a little longer though. There was something Katrielle needed for this game. The last grand piece.

“I see they let you in. Without your fleabag, at least.”

Katrielle smiled. It was a smile that said too much so she relaxed her face and opted for a politely surprised expression. She turned toward the source of the voice.

“Profiler Emiliane.” Now it was safe to smile. Within limits. “What a surprise. I don’t usually see you at these events.” Katrielle didn’t usually take part in these activities herself, but she was reasonably sure neither did Emiliane.

“I doubt you would see _anyone_ , not being a regular invitee.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I see it in how you move. How you gravitate more towards the food than the people, how I have seen few people talk to you.”

“Perhaps I have a very select group of friends.”

“Probably not in the way you’re thinking.”

Katrielle heard soft footsteps. She didn’t need to turn to see Ernest's polite smile. “Good evening, Miss Emiliane.” She did chance a glance at him and was surprised to see a decidedly happier face than she’d seen the rest of the evening. Huh. She’d expected at least some level of _Are you really going to try and pull a heist in_ her _presence?!_ to be hidden in his expression. Phrased more politely of course, because it was him, but still.

Emiliane studied him, eyes flitting over his outfit. She must have decided to accept his presence, considering she merely said, “Good evening.”

“I heard Scotland Yard was invited on very short notice,” said Ernest. “I hope you didn’t have to readjust your schedule.”

Huh. Well, Scotland Yard didn’t have too high a standing with the Dragons, anymore. Of course, judging by the sour twist of Emiliane’s lips, the Dragons didn’t have too high a standing with Scotland Yard either. Katrielle could understand that, from an objective point of view. The mayor had prompted several official investigations, requiring a lot of manpower and time, simply to serve as a beacon for gossip and tourists. And just because the Dragons valued big mysteries didn’t mean that Scotland Yard wasn’t still busy with the small ones.

Of course, Katrielle preferred the big mysteries too. They were her hobby and her work, her own art form. 

“A schedule should be flexible enough to make allowance for emergencies.”

“Emergencies?” Katrielle asked, doing her best to appear uninterested.

Emiliane threw her a long look. “I’m not here for pleasure, but for work. You will have to excuse me.” Katrielle watched in amusement as the profiler worked her way towards two officers.

Ernest looked after her with a frown. “What work could there be for Scotland Yard at this event?”

“How did you know that the invites were late?”

“The inspector told me.” Ernest gestured toward the familiar man near the dance floor. Katrielle pitied him a little. No one had bothered to tell him that the evening dress code was not an orange uniform. At least he hadn’t attempted to blend in as anything other than an officer. “He spoke of an anonymous tip.” She could hear the hesitance in Ernest’s voice. He didn’t want to steal under the eye of Scotland Yard.

“Hm.”

His gaze wandered over to her. “Did you know of it, too, Miss Layton?”

“I was the one who sent it in.”

He stared at her. His eyes were asking her _Why_ , but since he didn’t manage to voice a question, she didn’t bother to answer it. “Do you trust me or not?”

“Of course I do!” Ernest replied, looking almost offended at having his faith questioned twice in short succession. “I trust you with everything, Miss Layton.”

Katrielle felt her lips twitch upwards. _Liar_.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone wondering why Ernest and Katrielle show such sudden criminal urges... In my defense, Katrielle canonically steals a confectionary out of a pastry shop and a (hint) coin stash from inside the safe of a bank.
> 
> This will (hopefully) be the first of a few works of this AU. Basically the gang still gets asked to solve crimes, except those crimes may partially have been committed by them and also the Agency is just a front for Katrielle's growing criminal empire.
> 
> (Also, Ernest's hate of the Dragons is actually shown before the reveal.)


End file.
